


redamancy

by marchpng



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, It's One Of Those Fics, Other, it's a big load of fluff pls enjoy, lafayette is nb and thomas is in love, they're the focus here everyone else is background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 12:53:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13704864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marchpng/pseuds/marchpng
Summary: Five times Lafayette fell in love with Thomas, and one time they didn't.





	redamancy

**Author's Note:**

> look at me, actually not taking months to write my next story. this one is just me wanting to gush about my favourite pair in this fandom, honestly. hope ya enjoy, that's it, have a nice day

 

 

 

       i.             the club

 

 

 

They lost Adrienne.

 

It wouldn’t piss them off so much if they could call her, but the noise of the club would follow them if they went outside. Silence isn’t an option, not if they don’t want to walk another mile. And they were both too drunk to agree on a location should they lose sight of each other. There’s not a lot they can do, apart from walking around the dancefloor and search for her.

 

The fact that it’s that point of the night where they’re starting to regret wearing high heels doesn’t help, either. Their feet hurt, their short skirt attracts too much attention and they’re pretty sure that their fishnet thighs already have a few holes ripped into them: Lafayette wants to go home. Stealing joints from guys who aren’t used to being attracted to someone like them and can’t seem to get their eyes off their thighs isn’t fun three hours into the evening. They’re over grinding into some stranger’s groin, and they’re definitely over being groped without consent.

 

But, alas, Adrienne has decided to disappear into the depth of the crowd, and they can’t leave without her. Sure, it would be easy to call a taxi and escape the situation like that, but who knows where she’d end up, in her intoxicated state? They can’t do that to her.

 

So, Lafayette stays. For now.

 

It only takes ten minutes of searching for them to grow tired of it. They decide to sit down at the bar, where they’d usually meet up with Adrienne were this any other evening in any other club, tempted to take off their shoes and go outside to smoke away their frustration.

 

They’re still considering their options as they see him.

 

He’s bored, and he’s American, and it doesn’t take long for the both of them to start talking. Not after glances spared by both parties, secretly, obviously, but eventually, they do scoot closer together, lower their heads to be able to understand what the other is saying over the noise of the club, order a drink, and another, and another. When Adrienne stumbles into their lap, loud and obnoxious, Lafayette is drunk again, and in no condition to get either of them home.

 

Somehow, he manages to stuff Lafayette and Adrienne into a taxi. When they wake up the next morning, they only remember the drawl in his voice, and the dark hue of his eyes.

 

Their heart skips a beat when they see a number scribbled on their arm.

 

 

 

       ii.             the café

 

 

 

As it turns out, his name is Thomas.

 

His name is Thomas, and he’s just as American as they suspected. The Southern accent he should have, given that he’s from Virginia, wasn’t what led them to believe that: Rather, the cocky way he presented himself the night they met. Thomas apparently decided to spend some time in France while finishing his studies. He’s into law, something they can partly understand. It’s interesting and important, but not something they’d want to make a living out of.

 

He’s the first guy they didn’t end up sleeping with after meeting him in a club, and Lafayette has a lot of opinions about that. First of all, they’re glad. As they meet up in Paris to eat breakfast together, they notice the way the conversation flows, how easy it is to talk and joke with him. They work great as friends. Even as friends who barely remember their first meeting.

 

They show up in a red dress, lipstick and makeup that might be considered an exaggeration by some, in case he forgot about their identity. It doesn’t end up being necessary. He uses the right pronouns from the get go, and although it’s obvious that he lacks knowledge when it comes to this specific topic, they appreciate his effort.

 

There’s something cool about him, and they don’t exactly know how to place it. Some kind of difficulty in revealing too many things about himself, Lafayette contributes it all to a difficult past, or maybe just the unusual facets of their character. Open and cheerful and with too much love in their core to give it to anyone, they overwhelm sometimes. It’s too much, maybe.

 

But he seems to warm up soon enough. Quickly, his frown turns into a soft laugh as he manages to spill some of the jam onto his sleeve, encouraged by the honest chuckle Marie lets out. It’s a bit clumsy, a bit awkward, but never in a negative sense, never uncomfortable.

 

His eyes crinkle as the corners of his mouth change into a smile. They don’t think they could’ve seen a sight so pure and comforting had they ended up in his bed, rather than here, sitting at a small table in a café.

 

Marie decides it’s a good thing that they didn’t hook up.

 

 

 

       iii.             the louvre

 

 

 

They tried to warn him. They did.

 

The louvre is a tourist trap, Thomas, is what they said. There’s so many people there, you’re gonna hate it, I’m telling you. Sure, they kind of forgot that Thomas is technically a tourist and bound to fall for traps like that when they said it. Still, this situation? Not their fault.

 

He’s incredibly unimpressed by the art. Lafayette doesn’t know why for certain, but the longer they stay, the more sure they are about this being a way to pass the time. It’s better than him being bored and the both of them getting high in their apartment together, they suppose.

 

It’s easy to smile at his passive aggressive comments, all crossed arms and frowns when they can’t even take a proper look at the Mona Lisa due to several people blocking the view. Lafayette thinks about paying for a private viewing sometime this week, to make it a nicer, happier memory, but the thought is interrupted by Thomas muttering something about Leonardo da Vinci probably being gay if he can’t even make his biggest muse smile properly. They discard it after that.

 

Still, just because he’s grumpy as soon as they spend more than ten minutes in the building doesn’t mean Lafayette will give in that easily. No, they’re determined to make this a fun day: Searching for any opportunity to look at one of the artworks in peace, dragging him behind them with their hand around his wrist, prancing through the halls as if they belonged to them. Marie could afford it, but that’s not the point. The point is that they’re so busy looking at everything that they don’t notice.

 

He’s very subtle about it, of course. He always is. As they look back at him after reading the small sign in front of another painting made by their dearest friend Leonardo, it’s easy to recognize that he probably didn’t even listen. He was looking at them. Eyes soft and warm, finding them in silence, and for the split of a second, Marie is lost, unaware of everyone else around them. All at once, they’re vividly aware of their hold around his wrist. Even through the fabric, the touch feels hot.

 

It’s too short to be considered a moment, because they frown at him immediately, demand that he pays attention if they were already willing to come along. He just laughs.

 

When they’re sitting down on one of the cushiony benches in a corner, too exhausted to keep going for the time being, his eyes watch them in the same way.

 

This time, Lafayette doesn’t turn their head.

 

 

 

       iv.             the office

 

 

 

America is a lot.

 

Don’t get them wrong, Lafayette loves it here. The amount of people, the colours, the noises, both from traffic and from conversations they’re not a part of, the air that’s probably very bad for their physical health, the lack of any actual nature whatsoever if you’re not anywhere near a park? It’s great. Very different from the French aesthetic they live and breathe, but great.

 

The only thing that could eventually become a problem is the language barrier. Not a lot of people here speak French. Which is something they expected: They just didn’t expect their roommate to absolutely fail at understanding their broken English. Hercules is a big, brawly guy, very sweet, his character the actual opposite of his appearance. Maybe there’s a metaphor in there, but Lafayette doesn’t have a lot of time to dwell on it all: Before they know it, he’s dragging them to another apartment nearby, and they’re greeted by the personification of a hurricane, who’s gladly very capable of speaking their mother tongue.

 

It doesn’t last long for the four of them to become a firm group. Four, as in Lafayette, Hercules, the hurricane who’s called Alexander, and his friend John. For the first time in a long time, they feel at home. Feel like this is where they belong, like this is where they were meant to be all their life.

 

Some would say that feeling is bound to fade. Not Lafayette.

 

Reason for that is a sunny afternoon in the year of their arrival. They decided to stick to Alexander for the day, mostly because they were feeling a bit nervous about staying home alone, their English still not at the best of their capabilities. And so, they find themselves in his office.

 

They didn’t expect to find him here. In fact, they didn’t expect to find him, ever. Their friendship was something supposed to stay in France, along with other memories, both treasured and hated. Thomas moved away, and that was it. They said goodbye, and while they missed him from time to time, they knew that a long distance friendship isn’t exactly meant to work out. And once they were here, back in America, back where he came from, well. How high are the chances of finding a man in a country as big as this one? Especially if they know that he’s from Virginia?

 

Apparently, fate decided to work in their favour.

 

They throw themselves into his arms as they recognize him. It hasn’t been that long, but how could they mistaken that voice for someone else? That smirk, that drawl, that cocky stance, the warmth of his body when they hug him? There are tears in their eyes, rolling over their cheeks, and it’s not the first time he sees them crying, but the first time he’s at fault for it.

 

Lafayette asks about the tacky colour of his suit with a wet laugh.

 

They feel warm when he starts pouting.

 

 

 

       v.             the apartment

 

 

 

Reunited in America, Lafayette and Thomas now don’t get high in their apartment in Paris, they do it in New York City instead.  

 

It’s kind of ridiculous, really. Or maybe they just think that because of the intake of weed brownies they already had today. Still, it’s funny. You’re friends with someone for a bit longer than five years, lost him in France, found him in the biggest city of the world, and still end up in the same situation: On a couch, too high to form a sane thought, limbs seemingly sticking to each other.

 

Thomas mentions something about cream sodas not actually containing any cream, and how the corporations just keep lying to them all, and Lafayette wants to stuff his mouth with another brownie.

 

They’re alone, for once. The brownies were made by John, but he didn’t come over. And they might be in the apartment Lafayette shares with Hercules, but he’s spending the night with his brother, doing stuff brothers do, something they don’t know a lot about. Yeah, it’s just them, and they’re not sure if that makes it sadder or if that makes it more exciting, more like something they’re familiar with. More like home. Lafayette wonders if it even matters.

 

Either way, Lafayette is determined to use this time they have in the right way all over again. Binging a random series on Netflix they most likely won’t remember tomorrow, that sounds like a good idea, so that’s what they’ll do while ignoring Thomas’ occasional rambling. Folding their legs and letting their head rest against his shoulder, because the room is spinning a bit, and they need something to hold onto, to rely on, to trust.

 

Marie feels like falling, and Thomas catches them, a warm lap to rest their head in, and a tender hand stroking through their hair.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

       vi.             the time they didn't

 

 

 

 

They’re sitting on a couch again, but this time, it’s not Lafayette’s.

 

Monticello is big. Big, as in, bigger than the mansion Lafayette owns, and that’s a significant statement, given that they’re filthy rich and grew up with a lot of money. It’s so big that they feel fidgety when they sit down in the living room, getting ready to watch a movie they won’t remember looking back on this evening in the future.

 

They should do something. They feel like they should do something. Cook, maybe, or clean, or just get up and explore every single room they can find, despite the fact that this isn’t their first time here and they already know most of the building.

 

It’s weird, to feel so restless. But the feeling is quickly pushed aside, replaced by the presence of their friend next to them, something they know, something they find reassuring.

 

In the end, they’re not exactly sure what the reason behind the first kiss is.

 

There’s a lot to take in, a lot of actions leading up to it. There’s the fact that sometime through the movie, Lafayette ended up sitting in his lap, functioning as the most comfortable blanket in the world. The conversation light, something about how he doesn’t have enough food in his fridge for the both of them, something about ordering Chinese, his hand casually roaming across their chest, over the fabric of their sweater, their hand lingering on his knee. And all at once, it was more than that.

 

Or maybe it was always more than that. Maybe that spark was always there, the tingling feeling they can’t think away even if they wanted to. Maybe it was all meant to end up here, in Virginia, a state they were never all that interested in if it weren’t for Thomas, on a simple couch in a living room.

 

Maybe they were meant to kiss here.

 

His fingertips run up their neck, chin, jaw, and there’s a moment that goes by, their foreheads merely resting against together. Thomas is the one to tilt his head, his nose grazing theirs as he slots their lips together. There’s no passion behind it, it isn’t deep. It’s simple, plain and so incredibly soft, and it leaves Lafayette with a question they don’t want to answer right away.

 

It’s easy to avoid it, thinking about what it all means. So easy to think about the way their heart soars when his tongue slides alongside theirs instead. There’s his hand against their lower back, anchoring their hips together, and their fingers clinging to his shoulders, as if they’re scared of him leaving now that they’ve crossed the line. And as they straddle his lap, cross their arms to pull their sweater over their head, his hold on their thighs, his awestruck expression once again on them, the same way it was back in France … It’s just as easily forgotten, drowned by the brimming need to take.

 

Lafayette didn’t fall in love with him. They made a choice when they returned that first kiss, asked for more, more of him and his body and his soul: They walked into love with him, not certain of where they’d end up, but certain that they want him, and nothing but him.

 

It was an easy choice.

 

After all, it only took them a decade of friendship to make it.


End file.
